


Self-inserts are cringy

by Big_ball_of_anxiety_and_cake



Series: Sooo, I talked to my sister again... [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crack, Gen, I don't know, M/M, Meta too?, Not Really Character Death, Sad Ending, This is weird, but i like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27007972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Big_ball_of_anxiety_and_cake/pseuds/Big_ball_of_anxiety_and_cake
Summary: Cindy is just an ordinary person who wants to kill our favourite ineffable husbands.Except this is just a story and the characters will soon realise that.
Relationships: Background Crowley/Aziraphale - Relationship, Self-insert & existential crisis
Series: Sooo, I talked to my sister again... [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1910908
Kudos: 3





	Self-inserts are cringy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [walking_contradiction42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/walking_contradiction42/gifts).



> I talked to my sister about how self-inserts are hard to write without being cringe. Evil ones are less cringe though. So I wanted to write an evil self-insert. 
> 
> I also wanted to write a story about a character finding out it's in a story.
> 
> This is both.

I could hear them walking, treading softly on the wet, hard ground. My targets. Unsuspecting of my presence, they walked right into my ambush. There was nothing in my mind except cold, razor-sharp conviction. I had to do this. Just a little closer. And then the trap sprung.

“Hiyaaaaa!!!!”, I yelled as I sprung forth from where I had hid behind a pillar and leapt out into the drizzly rain. Like a comet of revenge my cheap baseball bat with the weird glitter writings slashed trough the air and-

Was stopped by a middle-aged man in casual black clothing. His hair was dark red and he wore sunglasses that I knew hid his serpentine eyes. He was a demon. And my target. Not that these had anything to do with each other. I had no problem with demons. Some of my best friends were demons. Or would be if I had any friends at all. My point is, I did not want to kill him because he was a demon. After all, I wanted to kill the person next to him too.

He was perhabs a bit on the chubby side and his beige waistcoat did nothing to hide that. Even if it did complement it. His clothing was old-fashioned and almost entirely white. His hair was white too and his skin was fair. Even if I had just attacked them, his smile was kind, if a bit confused. His whole being radiated a gentle happiness and warmth. Like the sun. As if he was made of light. That wasn’t so far from the truth actually. He was an angel after all.

The demon looked surprised to see me and more annoyed than angry about my failed asassination attempt.

“Who are you?”, he asked.

“Your untimely demise!”, I yelled back, ripped the bat from his hands and swung again.

Wow, where had that come from? The volume didn’t really fit our conversation but it had certainly sounded badass. I was badass. I liked that. Badass baseball bat girl.

It would have been much more badass if he hadn’t blocked this attack too and pinned me against the wall. My bat clattered to the ground and out of my reach. How unfortunate. Maybe I wasn’t badass after all. Right now I felt more like a damsel in distress.

“My demise certainly wouldn’t look like that”, said Crowley.

No idea what he was talking about. I looked great. Black fishnets, red eyeliner, a purple ripped dress that had originally been a fairy halloween costume and some bright yellow rubber boots to round the outfit off. The height of fashion. But back to killing people.

“Die!”, I yelled and tried to pry his hands off me. It didn’t work. Demonic strength and all that.

By now Crowley had left the initial surprise behind and was just annoyed that I was ruining his date night with his angel.

“What’s your name?”, he growled.

I wanted to snarl it right back into his ugly (actually not but I was emotional), demonic face but instead I paused confused. What was my name? I should know that right? Then suddenly it was there. Like a puzzle piece that fit neatly into his place.

“Cinderella”, I said and frowned. That sounded wrong. It was undeniably my name but I couldn’t remember hearing it before I said it. Perhabs I preferred a nickname?

“You can call me Cindy”, I tried but it still sounded wrong. I remembered my friends calling me that on the school yard but I did not remember those memories being there a few moments ago. And since when did I have friends? I just talked about not having any but now they were clearly there in my memories. None of them were demons though.

This was all very confusing. Maybe I had amnesia? It didn’t feel like amnesia. It didn’t feel like the memories were coming back. It felt like they had just been created but that couldn’t be, right?

“Why did you attack us, Cindy?”, Aziraphale asked. Even his voice was nice. So gentle. He was nice. I liked him. Except I didn’t. I wanted to kill him. I remembered that. It was important. So I frowned at him.

“None of your business!”, I snarled. God, I sounded like a moody teenager. Was I a teenager? I couldn’t remember how old I was. Maybe I forgot? Did people forget their age sometimes? Then again, it did not feel like something I had ever known. As did so much else.

Crowley roughly shook my arm.

“Be nice!”, he snapped. Poor protective boyfriend. It was actually pretty cute. I still wanted to kill them. It was important.

“I’m not nice!”, I yelled back and bared my teeth.

“I can clearly see that! Now why did you attack us?!” Crowley bared his teeth too. Since he had snake fangs, it looked much more impressive. Cheating.

“I need to kill you.”

“With a glittery baseball bat. That won’t kill us.”

“I know. You’re a demon. It will just discorporate you.”

Shocked silence. I guess they didn’t expect me to know about that.

Crowley eyed my suspiciously. At least, I think he did. Hard to tell behind those sunglasses.

“Did Hell sent you?”, he asked.

“No, of course not!”

“Well, definitely not Heaven either. You’re not really their style. But who did sent you? How do you know who we are?”

My mind was roiling though I did my best not to show it. These questions made sense. They should have been easy to answer. So why did I come up empty?

“I...I don’t know”, I stammered out. “I don’t even know how I got here. This all feels so wrong.”

The angel looked worried. “Maybe you hit your head, dear?”

He tried to reach out to me but his demonic boyfriend stopped him. He frowned and tasted the air with his split serpent-tongue. It actually looked kinda cute.

“You smell weird”, he decided. “You aren’t supposed to be here, I can feel it.”

“Maybe she was created by Adam?”, Aziraphale mused. “It would explain the total lack of a past. Reality would try to fit her in so her life is being randomly created.”

That actually kinda made sense? As much as anything could in this situation.

“Or maybe I’m a character in a story and the author is still making up the details”, I joked. Then I stopped. Where had that come from? Why did that feel so right? It made no sense. 

Aziraphale and Crowley had also frozen. I expected them to laugh and brush it off but they didn’t.

“How did we get here today, honey?”, asked Crowley as he turned to Aziraphale. “Why are we here?”

Their eyes met and both of theirs were wide in shock. A sort of understanding passed between them. I had the terrible feeling that I knew what it was. Then Aziraphale confirmed my suspicions.

“None of this is real”, he said and as if those words had pulled a plug, the two of them started to dissolve. And by that I don’t mean turn to dust and be blown away in the wind. They simply faded like they had never really been there at all. I suppose they hadn’t.

“Wait!”, I cried. “What should I do now?”

“You have to get into the real world. Find whoever wrote this story and stop them! There must be someone here who knows how to do that. Otherwise this plot would make no sense.”

“But how do I find them?”

“Use the phone book, darling”, chided Crowley’s voice just before they disappeared completely. Wow, he was so annoying. I didn’t know why I had tried to kill them -probably just because the author wanted me to- but with Crowley, I would have been okay. He was annoying and kind and soft and- I started to cry even though I had known these people -did celestial beings count as people?- for only a few minutes. Stupid author making me care so much about strangers.

Then I went to find the nearest phone book.

It was really ridiculously easy. On the very first page of the phone book that was just casually laying on a bench in the park, there was an advert for the “Cult that knows this is all just a story and how to get out”. There was even an adress included. I wondered how nobody else had noticed it yet. Then again they were all just unimportant background characters, so the author probably hadn’t bothered to give them much of a personality or intelligence.

There was obviously also a bus to that exact adress as soon as I reached the station and I just happened to have the right change in my pocket. This was just lazy writing. They could have sent me on an amazing quest to find the money and maybe throw in some monsters to fight but no. They seemed to be in a hurry. Must be a oneshot.

Anyway I took the bus and found the cult immediately. The bus just stopped there even though there was no bus stop in sight. They must have forgotten to mention that in the description. Like I said, lazy writing. The house was ridiculously easy to find too. It was the stereotypical big, black mansion with lots of willow trees even if we were in the middle of London. It also had “Cult” written on it in giant, flashing, purple letters.

The door wasn’t locked, so I walked right in. Inside a person in a long velvet robe was already waiting for me.

“Cindy!”, he chanted. It was just one word but those guys can turn anything into a chant. “We have waited for you. Your arrival was foretold centuries ago!”

Ugh...the old chosen-one plot. How uncreative. I decided not to call him out on the “we”-thing either. He was alone. Author had probably been too lazy to create more than one weird cult follower.

“Yeah, whatever”, I said. “Can you sent me to reality?”

“Yes.”

Okay, why would an author create something like this? But then again, why do authors do anything? Probably just bored.

“If you can go there anytime you want, why are you still here?”, I asked.

Silence. Looks like that path wasn’t programmed yet. They could have just said that that’s where the rest of the cult had gone. Once again, lazy writing.

“Okay, then sent me there or whatever.”

The cult guy raised his arms and darkness washed over me. Seriously? You couldn’t even include an obscure ritual? A dance? Maybe at least a flash of light? This story was horrible! The plot made no sense! And so unimaginative! 

When the swirling darkness dissolved, she was not in the mansion anymore. In fact, this whole place somehow felt different. The urge to narrate everything from the I-perspective stopped. This had to be reality.

It was evening outside the windows. Cindy had arrived in a small room. There was an unmade bed, some bookshelfs and dirty clothing strewn everywhere. At a small desk facing the window that looked out onto the dirty streets, sat a girl. She must’ve been about Cindy’s age. Her muddy-blond hair was pulled back into a messy bun and it looked like she hadn’t showered in a few days. She had just finished typing furiously on her labtop. When Cindy arrived, she had whirled around and was now staring at her wide-eyed.

This must be her author.

“Your writing is shit”, said Cindy. Someone had to tell her.

The girl continued to stare like she couldn’t believe what was happening even though she had just written it.

“It worked”, she breathed.

Cindy frowned. “Of course it did, dummy. You’re an author. You wrote it. What you write happens.”

The girl was still staring. It wasn’t everyday that you found out you have god-like powers.

Cindy looked around the room. Reality. Pretty unimpressive but she could work with this. Build a new life. Actually this was her first life. She hadn’t really had a life in her story. Too lazy to include a backstory. But now she was in reality and the world was her oyster.

You and me obviously know that this still wasn’t the real world. I would never bring my characters here. They probably wouldn’t like what I did with their lives.

But lets let Cindy believe it for just a second. Let her believe that she is now in charge of her own destiny. Let her have that happy ending.

And then the curtain falls and that world is no more. Abandoned forever, our characters go back to where they came from.

Into nothingness.

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanna mention here that nobody actually showed up in my room while I wrote this. Yet....


End file.
